


Under the Shadow

by BecauseFanfictionThough



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Attempted Murder, Death, F/M, Fluff, Mental Illness, OFCs - Freeform, Romance, Self-Doubt, Therapy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence, lotsa angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 07:30:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14765258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseFanfictionThough/pseuds/BecauseFanfictionThough
Summary: Myra’s life had finally gained some sense of normalcy. Well, as much normalcy as can be expected after you’ve spent most of your life in a mental institution. The nightmares of when her father died still haunt her but with medication, weekly therapy, and a fuck-ton of alcohol she’s learning how to cope. That is until her therapist dies under mysterious circumstances and she’s tossed into a whirlwind known as “The Winchesters”. Could everything they’re telling her be true? Could it be that she’s not as crazy as everyone has always told her? That what she saw that night her father died really was a demon, and now it’s back for her little sister?





	Under the Shadow

I wasn’t an alcoholic, I was just a person that enjoyed a drink when things got stressful. Sure, my tolerance for stress was pretty low, but my tolerance for alcohol had always been pretty high so that made up for it. It’s not that I was addicted, it was just that when I passed out from alcohol there was less of a chance that the nightmares would come back. Usually it meant I’d fall into a dreamless sleep that I didn’t even remember, before I woke up with no recollection of the night before. Sure, I’d pay for it in the morning, but for a few solid hours of minimal brain activity it was worth it. At least, that’s how it usually seemed, until I woke up in the morning to the sound of Whitney Houston screaming at me that she wanted “to dance with somebody.”

I groaned and dared to open my eyes, just a slit. I regreted it immediately as the light coming in through my open curtains burned my retinas and the sting traveled all the way to the center of my brain. Another pathetic noise left my lips as I rolled onto my side and blindly grasped around on top of my bedside table until my hand landed on my phone. With my back to my window I dared to open my eyes again, just long enough to press the green circle on my cellphone screen before closing them again.

“’Ello?” I asked, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“Miss. McMain?” a familiar voice said from the other end.

“Yeah. Thas’me.”

“Miss. McMain, this is Jenny from Family counseling services calling in regards to your appointment with Doctor Lains at ten o’clock.”

“Yes, Jenny, hi.” I opened my eyes to steal a glance at the alarm clock on my bedside table. The glowing red numbers told me that it was just barely past seven in the morning. The ache in my skull had ebbedd so I dared to sit up, immediately regretting the decision but powering through it.

“Well…um…I’m afraid the appointment has to be canceled. We can reschedule you for nine-thirty if you’d like, just…well…with Doctor Ashlinn.” It’s just then that I realized there was something wrong. There was a tremor in her voice that made me feel uneasy.

“That’s fine. But why? Is Lains sick?”

My question was met with an unnaturally long silence and I swore that I could hear Jenny taking in a shaky breath.

“I’m afraid Doctor Lains has…has passed.”

It was like someone dunked me in a tub of ice water. Every hair on my body stood on edge and a chill rans through me. I tried to start a sentence three or four times but the words all got stuck in my throat. Finally I swallowed hard and asked, “H- How?”

The pretend formality droped out of Jenny’s voice as she said, in a hushed tone, “I can’t say right now, Myra. There’s still cops interviewing staff, and I’ve got a mile-long list of patience I’ve still got to call up.”

“Okay, yeah. Sorry. I’ll see you later, Jenny.” The call ended before Jenny even returned my goodbye.

Setting my phone aside, I threw my blanket off me and swung my feet over the edge of the bed. My apartment wasn’t spectacular. Behind me was the only window in my small bedroom, and across from me was a blank, cream wall. Willing my legs to stay steady underneath me, I left my room and entered the other half of my apartment. Across the hall was the bathroom and the kitchen and living room shared a wooden floor, the fridge and stove to the right of me and the couch to the left. My eyes wandered to the old coffee table I had picked up on the side of the road a few months ago where a can of beer still sat from the night before. Without hesitation, I crossed to it and picked it up. It was warm and only half full but I didn’t give it a second thought as I downed its contents.

 

Two and a half hours later I walked into the waiting room of Arborland County Family Counseling Services. Jenny sat behind a pane of bullet-proof desk as usual. It wasn’t until I lowered the bulky sunglasses I’d been using to protect my hangover from the sun that I realized her eyes were red and puffy.

“Hey,” I greeted her.

“Hey, honey.” She gave a weak smile.

Jenny was really the only friend I had in town. Even though she was a good fifteen years older than me she still felt like the only human being left on earth that didn’t look at me with pity. She didn’t treat me like some fragile thing that would shatter if she said the wrong thing. It’s not that I blamed anyone who did. I was the town crazy. The girl who cried “demons!” and grew up in mental institutions because of it. The girl who, up until she was twenty-three years old couldn’t figure out that if she’d just stop insisting a demon killed her father and burned her house down that she’d be allowed to go off and live a normal life. Jenny didn’t look at her like she knew any of that. The woman invited me into her home for Sunday dinner every week, taught me how to drive when I was finally free, and had set me up with a steady job stocking shelves overnight at a local grocery store. She was the closest thing to a mother I’d ever had.

“How are you?” I asked.

Jenny sniffled. “I’m hangin’ in there. Things around here are…odd. The whole thing just doesn’t feel right, you know?”

“How come?”

Jenny took a deep breath and looked from side to side, making sure nobody was paying attention. The cops had cleared out already but there were still a few patients in the waiting room.

“I overheard some cops talking,” Jenny explained and I restrained from rolling my eyes. Jenny was a wonderful woman but a horrible gossip. More than likely she’d purposely eavesdropped on them. “Apparently the coroner says Lain has been dead for at least ten days, but—”

“But I just had a session with her last week. That’s crazy.”

“You think that’s crazy? I swear I just saw her yesterday, taking patients and everything. I know she was here. I’m the damn secretary, for Christ’s sake! I know everyone who comes in and out of this place and Doctor Lain was here.” Her voice was hushed until she got to the end of her last sentence. Then it rose slightly and cracked. Fresh tears pooled in her eyes and she tried to blink them back.

“What’d the police say?” I asked, not knowing what else to say.

“The sheriff thinks I’m just ‘grieving’. The FBI didn’t seem to think I was quite as off my rocker, but then they just left.” Jenny rose a hand to slide it over her face. “I’m crazy. I’m insane. They need to just lock me up and throw away the—” the stopped suddenly, her eyes going wide as she looked at me.

I spared Jenny a smile and shook my head. “It’s okay, Jenny. I get what you’re saying. If you’re crazy then my meds aren’t working because I know I met with her last week. The coroner has to be wrong. That’s it.”

“I know, Honey. I know. I’m just…flustered.”

“Understandable.”

With a kind smile Jenny turned away from me to start typing away at her computer. “There we go. Doctor Ashlinn will be with you shortly.”

“Thanks, Jen. See you tonight for dinner?”

“I’m making your favorite: Meatloaf and twice-baked potatoes.”

“Can’t wait,” I smiled and turned away from the desk, heading towards the metal chairs that lined the left half of the room. I found one in the furthest corner and no sooner had my butt hit the seat than I heard someone calling my name. Looking up, across the room to the secured door that led to the counselors’ offices, I saw a man making eye contact with me. He was a short man with gray hair and his blue shirt didn’t match the black and red polka dotted socks that stuck out from beneath the khaki pants that weren’t quite long enough for him, somehow. I’d seen him around before, calling for other patients while I waited for Doctor Lain to see me. But something was off. He’d usually always been so put together. I brushed off my uneasy feelings, chalking them up to the trauma all of the staff must have been experiencing after Doctor Lain’s death. I stood and crossed to him, extending my hand.

“Myra McMain?” the man asked and I nodded. He took my hand firmly—almost too firmly—and shook it. “Doctor Ashlinn. Very nice to meet you. Right this way.”

Other than his clothes there was nothing that seemed off about him. Well, except for the fact that, while the walk down the hall to his office would have normally been filled with idle chat, in my experience, was silent.

“Umm…nice socks,” I tried to break the silence.

“Yeah? I like them. They’re…fun.”

The sentence left me more uneasy. There was a smirk on Doctor Ashlinn’s face that didn’t go unnoticed by me, but I tried to ignore it. Tried to brush it off. Although I couldn’t shake the feeling of the giant stone that had suddenly settled inside my stomach. The stone that only grew heavier when we entered his office and I heard him lock the door behind us. Something was wrong. No therapist I’d ever met had locked us in during our meetings. It made me feel trapped, like a caged animal. I tossed the feelings up to having been too nauseous to choke down my meds that morning. Maybe I was just hearing things. Maybe Ashlinn hadn’t actually locked the door. Maybe it was just my anxiety telling me that he had.

“So, Myra, I hear Doctor Lain left off speaking to you about your sister last session.”

I raised an eyebrow. This wasn’t normal. Where was the “how are you doing?” Where were the questions of how much I’d been drinking lately and if I still felt like I was adjusting? This wasn’t how any therapy session I’d ever attended before had started. Not to mention, I’d only briefly mentioned Bella at the end of my last session.

“Um…kind of? I guess?”

“Good. Good. Family is very important. Do you still speak to her?”

My jaw clenched, all thoughts of how strange this was pushed aside by my reluctance to speak about my family. But I went along with the questioning.

“Not really. Not in a few months.”

“In Doctor Lain’s notes it said last you knew she was living in New York, some place in the city?”

I remembered that conversation. I remembered Doctor Ashlinn asking for the address and giving it to her, only for her to tell me that perhaps I should write to her sometime. I didn’t tell her that I’d tried before. I didn’t tell her that I never got a reply—that the last time I tried to call her I learned that her cellphone had been disconnected.

“Yeah. Last I knew.”

“And she’s no longer there?”

“…no. I guess not. What’s this all ab—”

“Where is she now?”

“Isn’t this supposed to be about me? Ya know? Me being crazy?”

“Yes. Yes. We’ll get there. But first. Myra, where is your sister?”

“Um…am I missing something here?” My throat was growing tight. Something definitely wasn’t right here. “Why the sudden burn about my sister?”

My heart froze in my chest when Doctor Ashlinn’s eyes turned yellow.


End file.
